


Private; Yours & Mine

by madamerioulette



Series: Fjollymauk Week 2019 [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 21:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamerioulette/pseuds/madamerioulette
Summary: Being with Mollymauk is like the better part of drowning, if something like that existed.





	Private; Yours & Mine

They bought the tents under the pretense that fall was transitioning into winter as each day pressed on, and being on the open road with nothing but a dimly lit campfire to keep them warm at night wasn’t the best option anymore. Of course, there was always the option of a cuddle pile, as Jester put it, but there were some that very much enjoyed their own space when sleeping as Caleb made evidently clear with his casually distraught expression when the idea had been brought up. So when they came across a small marketplace at the Crossroads, the opportunity arose to snag some warm, leather tents to keep the weather at bay. They bought three, about the amount of rooms they usually end up renting out; one for the girls, one for Caleb and Nott, and one for Fjord and Mollymauk.

Fjord had to admit having this extra layer of privacy while they were out on the road was a blessing. It offered protection from the rain, which meant some of them didn’t have to opt for sleeping under the cart or find minimal shelter under trees. It offered privacy and meant when Fjord inevitably dreamed and woke with sea water drooling from his mouth the only person he had to worry about seeing him was Mollymauk, and he never commented that much on it anyway. It offered close proximities and sleeping arrangements that had Fjord back to back with Mollymauk, or back to front, or front to front. The position depended on the mood, depended on whether Mollymauk was feeling particularly playful with his tail, tickling Fjord’s calves until he turned around in his makeshift cot to make a face. They’re almost never this close in the inns they stay at, Mollymauk takes the floor no matter how many times Fjord offers to switch with him, but occasionally the tiefling will find his way in the middle of the night and slips beneath the covers, presses his face into the crook of Fjord’s neck until the gentle bites wake him up.

It’s new, it’s a new thing that Fjord’s not totally sure about, but he’s definitely not saying no either. If anybody asked, he’d say Mollymauk started it. He rooms with no one else, he’s always getting up in his space, they’ve reached the comfort level of a casual touch on the shoulder, the arm, the hip. But Mollymauk’s like that with everyone, save sharing a room, so it’s really when Fjord starts to reciprocate when the fault weighs on his end of the balance. It’s when Fjord figures out his new spell, Blink; pretty basic, most attuned to magic can figure it out with practice. And maybe there’s something in Fjord’s breakfast that morning, a little extra spring in his step, he’s in a good mood when they go against the naga-like creatures. He’s focused on the battle, of course, but he can’t help but dance around Mollymauk, blink in and steal his kill before winking and blinking back out of existence. It’s Fjord’s fault, and further still when the next time they’re in the sanctity of an inn and Mollymauk crawls into bed, presses his lips tentatively to the nape of his neck and asks if he can stay, Fjord says yes.

It’s a blessing that a man so ostentatiously dressed can be so deceptively lowkey about particular topics. Mollymauk gets when to bring something up and when not to, to drop a subject and when to fill in the awkward silence with a drink or fortune. It’s a blessing that he keeps the attitude towards Fjord just as even as ever until the door shuts behind them or the tent flap closes.

Except tent flaps aren’t as sturdy as inn room walls, and Mollymauk’s now taken to teasing him about being too loud. Fjord doesn’t think he is, not really, but everything sounds louder when it’s dead quiet in the middle of the night. If anything it’s Mollymauk’s laughing that will get the unwanted attention of their companions, with one hand gently over Fjord’s mouth and the other down the front of his smalls.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble too,” he manages from behind the hand.

“It’s much easier to cover for a laugh than your excitable moaning,” Mollymauk whispers back, removing his hand and replacing it with his lips, biting off any retort Fjord was even thinking about making in the process.

Maybe so, but he figures both will get them looks come morning. It doesn’t matter now, they’re already mostly undressed, and Fjord isn’t in the habit of leaving things unfinished.

Being with Mollymauk is like the better part of drowning, if something like that existed. He’s all consuming of the senses, leaves him breathless, turns the world upside down and when it starts to become too much, there’s the surface, and Fjord’s ready to re-submerge once more. He has calmer dreams when they’re like this, when Mollymauk takes the lead, takes care of him, rocks against him like an ocean wave, even with the chance of being caught it’s still a thrill. A thrill that has adrenaline riding through him, has Fjord taking just a bit of charge as he grabs at Mollymauk’s hips and sets the pace, the tone, but it’s still the tiefling’s show. It’s always someone else’s show, be it Mollymauk or Uk’otoa, but it’s always better like this, it’s better with Mollymauk’s voice in his ear with searing praises instead of vague demands, a light bit of laughter in lieu of a dark chuckle, the hot, wet press of Mollymauk’s lips against his neck, biting as his jaw and not the chilling salt of the sea.

“You’re being so good for me Fjord.” His voice is sweet, quiet, trailing off with a quiet moan he barely swallows down as Fjord picks up the pace and he knows he’s close beneath him.

Mollymauk’s hand pushes his hair back, sweat slick, and pulls just enough to bring Fjord’s attention back to him, just him, and nothing else. And Fjord wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He mouths it, that’s all he needs to do -  _ come for me _ \- and Mollymauk’s red, kiss abused lips are the last thing Fjord sees as his eyes roll back and he bites his tongue hard enough to taste copper.

The morning after Fjord knows Mollymauk will leave the tent and go back to being his regular old self, gentle touches on everyone’s shoulders, getting shoulder to shoulder with Beau just to rouse her up, bumping hips with Jester as they laugh together, an arm around Yasha’s shoulder as best he can as they chat rather one-sidedly. But these moments, heated and the afterglow, where Mollymauk’s tail lazily drags across his skin and Fjord traces patterns on his skin with his lips. Those moments are private and completely theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little late on this one - sorry about that!
> 
> Happy Fjolly Week ❤
> 
> all ficlets for Fjolly Week have accompanying art found @thelittlemiss on twitter
> 
> thank you for reading! ❤


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